The King is Dead: Mehdi Hassan

Shahenshah-e-ghazal

In the West there are many who dread the day when the headlines read, “Bob Dylan Passes Away”.  Will the world be the same after that? Pop stars come and go and many of them are indeed deeply mourned by millions of fans. But few artists are in that superior rank of cultural icons, whose work defined a generation or a genre. Or whose contribution ripples far beyond the shore of their particular artistic calling, and becomes part of the way the people hear or see or think.

Pakistan lost such a figure today: Mehdi Hassan, the Shahenshah-e-ghazal. And not only Pakistanis are grieving, but South Asians and lovers of sophisticated refined musical art are all feeling the loss.

Mohabbat karne wale kam na honge

teri mehfil mein lekin ham na honge

Here is an obituary from Pakistan’s Nation newspaper.

Pakistan's legendary classical singer Mehdi Hassan, who captivated millions of music fans across South Asia, died on Wednesday after a long illness, his family said. He was 84.

Hassan, known as Shahenshah-e-Ghazal, or the king of classical singing among Urdu speakers across the world, died in a private hospital in Karachi.

His son Asif told reporters outside the hospital that his father had been suffering from multiple lung, chest and urinary tract conditions.

Mehdi Hassan was born in 1927 in a village called Luna in Rajasthan‚ undivided India in a family of traditional musicians. He had his musical grooming from his father Ustad Azeem Khan and uncle Ustad Ismail Khan who were both traditional dhrupad singers.

After the independence‚ 20 years old Mehdi Hassan and his family migrated to Pakistan and settled in Cheecha Watni‚ district Sahiwal.

Mehdi Hassan was given an opportunity to sing on Radio Pakistan in 1957‚ primarily as a thumri singer‚ which earned him recognition within the musical fraternity. At that time‚ Mehdi Hassan also had a passion for Urdu poetry and began to experiment by singing ghazals on part-time basis.

Mehdi Hassan ruled Pakistani film industry for a long time. 1962 was a lucky year for him when his three songs were a hit. His all time hit ghazal Gullon mein rang bharay... in film Farangi in 1964 gave him breakthrough as playback singer. His peak period was in the 1970s.

Following a severe illness in the late 80s‚ Mehdi Hassan stepped down from playback singing. Later due to severity of his illness he completely departed from music.

Mehdi Hassan received numerous awards and recognitions. These include the Tamgha-i-Imtiaz ; the Pride of Performance ; and the Hilal-i-Imtiaz . Besides Nigar Film and Graduate Awards from Pakistan‚ he was recipient of the Saigal Award in Jalandhar‚ India‚ in 1979 and the Gorkha Dakshina Bahu Award in Nepal in 1983.

Prime Minister Yousuf Raza Gilani expressed his condolences, calling Hassan "an icon who mesmerised music lovers" in Pakistan and the sub-continent for decades.

Indian singing legend Lata Mangeshkar told a private TV channel  that his death was a "big loss".

Hassan also won awards and accolades in India and Nepal, as well as Pakistan. He was born in India and migrated to Pakistan after partition and independence from British rule in 1947.

            Track Listing:

            01 Baat Karni Mujhay

02 Chaltay Ho To Chaman

03 Hum Per Jafa

04 Mohabhat Karne Walay

05 Patta Patta Boota Boota

06 Gulon Main Rang Bharay

07 Ghuncha-E-Shauq

08 Go Zara Si Baat

09 Woh Dil Nawaz Hain Laikin

10 Nanak Andaz Jidhar

11 Tum Aaye Ho Na

12 Ulti Ho Gaeen Sab Tadbeerain

here

Broken Bicycles and Dreams: Mehdi Hassan

Rawalpindi 1987

I took this photograph many years ago when I was studying Urdu in Pakistan.  I was attracted immediately to a couple things but as I’ve learned repeatedly over the years the ‘real’ attraction of a scene lies buried deep in the soul and rests at an essentially emotional level. 

The morning I made this picture I was walking through the Hathi Chowk area of Rawalpindi, my belly sated with chole puri and sweet chai.  I happened upon this most common of urban scenes, a sidewalk bicycle repair shop, and immediately took the picture.  I’ve always been a sucker for bikes, and indeed my childhood holidays revolved around my Robin Hood cycle which I rode every waking moment. As I explored the streets and mohallas of Allahabad I frequently stopped at repair shops like this to get my punctures fixed or tires pumped or have that nagging squeak in the pedals oiled away. These men were essential parts of my world. So I suppose I saw a glimpse of my youth in this guy.

But that wasn’t all. Poster art, especially movie posters, are another one of my passions. And this poster formed a perfect background to the cyclewala. Instantly, I saw a picture and grabbed it.

It was only several years later that I began to understand that what attracted me to this scene was not just those two elements (poster and cyclewala) who at first glance seem to be randomly placed together. But rather that these two elements worked together to reveal the true message of this scene.

The power of this picture comes from understanding that the poster is a visual representation of the cyclewala’s inner world.  It is not simply a random poster that just happens to be there. The humble, poorly remunerated, socially marginalised cycle repairman understands his position and his caged world. His expression suggests someone who is not exactly pleased with his situation.  But behind him is a glimpse of his longed for, of his ‘if only’ destiny and identify.  A Super Hero. A Master of both beauty and beast. His humble pliers and monkey wrenches transmogrified into a sparkling sword.

This was exactly my state of mind when I took this picture. I was coming to the end of a year of study in Pakistan. What awaited me in America, a long academic career, seemed to be a cage that I no longer wanted to live within. My heart was full of other ideas, mostly to stay in Pakistan, and do, God knows what. The world was vaster and surely more full of excitement than being a marginalised, poor graduate student.

I see now that it was not the poster or the man that was really speaking to me that morning. Rather it was the feeling of being trapped and having only the flimsiest of hopes of escape.

Which brings us, at long last, to today’s post.  Mehdi Hassan, perhaps the most accomplished and sophisticated of Pakistan’s ghazal singers, migrated in the madness of Partition from Rajasthan to Pakistan when he was a young boy.  In his new homeland his family struggled on the edges of abject poverty and for some years Mehdi supported his family as a sidewalk cyclewala pumping tires, fixing punctures and reconnecting other people’s chains. 

Mehdi Hassan

When I learned this about him, his music took on another dimension.  I began to hear echoes of that same dread, hope, fear and longing that I and all of us who have ever been desperate to change their circumstances have known so well.

This collection is an Indian pressing of a Mehdi Hassan concert from the late 1970’s or early 80’s.  He gives four beautiful performances of some of his most famous ghazals including my favourite Baat Karne Mujhe Mushkil (It is Difficult for Me to Speak). 

            Track Listing:

01 Mohabbat Karne Wale Kam Na Honge

02 Baat Karni Mujhe Mushkil

03 Bhooli Bisri Chand Ummeeden

04 Abke Ham Bichhre

Excuse the short repeated phrase at the beginning of track four. It doesn’t last long.

Listen here.